


Of Scars and Jealousy

by showbooth



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, Jealous Arthur Morgan, M/M, No Spoilers, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Secret Relationship, no TB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showbooth/pseuds/showbooth
Summary: Arthur wants to keep his relationship with John under lock and key, for safety.John ain't having it.





	Of Scars and Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe my first fic on here is a Red Dead one, but damn do I love these guys!
> 
> Not the most original story out there, but I wanted to write something with these fellas. It opened the door for another longer, slightly more original fic I have for them!
> 
> Not beta read and also written on my phone so, the formatting maybe wonky. I'm sorry, I'm trying!

“Go fishing with you? Ha! I'd rather use you as cougar bait, or should I say wolf bait.”

Arthur had been at the camp for a rare two days straight, nursing a twisted ankle he was rewarded after catching it on a fallen limb.  
Didn't help matters that he was trying to take cover from a band of trigger happy Lemoye Raiders out in the middle of nowhere.  
But a bum ankle was better than a bullet in the head, more than he can say for the three he left to the buzzards.

For two days now he sat by the fire with his ankle wrapped and propped up.  
At first, the time was almost like a vacation for the gunslinger. He figured he was well overdue for a bit of R&R so he let himself enjoy.

He wrote in his journal about the tale, taking time to detail the riddled body of the soul who made him dip and cover.  
He taught little Jack the basics of dominos, then how to be a humble loser when Hosea won three games in a row against them.  
Pearson even got him to peel a mountain of potatoes, much to the amusement of Sadie. 

Arthur was just starting to feel antsy when the very person he was trying to avoid in the small camp now hovered above him, making him feel like a trapped animal.

John wasn't at camp often, off getting into trouble like the rest of them, but at night he'd rambled back in looking for a bit of food and his tent.  
Arthur watched him out the corner of his eye as he ate, as he brushed his horse, as he talked shit with Lenny and Sean.  
He felt like he was on a continuous hunting trip, the concentration and taunt nerves making his headache and heart pound 

John towered above him now, his hands fisted on narrow hips. “Come on Arthur, ain't like you got anything better to do. Unless Pearson has some dishes that are needin’ washin’.”

Arthur scowled and didn't reply, instead turning his full attention to his work oiling his gun.

John wasn't put off. He plopped down beside Arthur, stretching his lanky body to it's full length in the rickety chair. Pulling out a cigarette, he scratched absently at his stitched cheek.  
“I complained less when I got these.”

“Bout due to take those out ain't ya, Scarface?” Arthur asked. “Or are you gonna keep 'em in forever for sympathy.”

John blew a puff of smoke into Arthur's face, grinned when the older man waved it away in annoyance.  
“Why don't you take ‘em out for me?”

Arthur huffed. “You really want me that close to your face with a sharp object? You really are dumber than you look.”

“Come on, everyone else is busy! I can't do it myself, my hands aren't steady enough.”

“You're pathetic.” Arthur complained, though without heat behind it.  
He packed up his gun oil and sent John to loot the girl's tent for tweezers and a bottle of booze. 

The younger man was back in a flash and sat himself down squarely in front of Arthur.

“Easy there Morston, you almost sat down in my lap.” Arthur said gruffly,blushing beneath his beard.

Bill was walking nearby and heard Arthur. “Gee John, keep it in your pants!” He laughed, walking on to his horse.

John had the good sense to scoff and shoot Bill a curse, but didn't back up an inch. He took his hat off and tilted his injured cheek to Arthur. “Get with it, Morgan.”

“Take a swig of that shine first, might burn a little.” Arthur suggested. He took a nip himself, splashing his knife and the tweezers with the alcohol for good measure.

“Don't go getting drunk while you do it!” John complained.

Arthur shook his head, but cupped John's whiskered chin in his palm. He stared into John's brown eyes a beat too long, studied the way the light caught the flecks of green and hazel in them.  
He watched as a blush bloomed across John's cheeks and down his neck.  
Arthur knew the red would drift almost to his collarbones, staining his skin and leaving heat in its wake. 

He tucked a strand of John's limp hair behind his ear tilting his cheek in better light. “You really should scrub this head of yours sometime.”

John laughed softly, a warm exhale against Arthur's wrist. “Why, not like I got a hot date.”

Arthur chuckled and as gently as he could cut the first stitch with the tip of his knife. He didn't want John to know how nervous he was to be playing doctor.  
To his credit, John didn't jump at the pull of his sensitive skin. If anything he seemed to lean into Arthur's touch.

“You should, you know, get you a hot date.” Arthur said quietly, switching to his tweezers now.

Beneath his hands John tensed, his dark eyebrows meeting in a scowl Arthur couldn't see. “You know damn good and well I'm not looking for a hot date.”

“Well, you should be. If anything…” Arthur started, but caught himself and stopped. 

“If anything for ‘appearance sakes’, right?” John finished for him.

It was an old argument, one he knew he would never win. Ever since their first clumsy kiss so long ago, Arthur had been trying to keep John at arm's length. For his safety, Arthur preached time and time again. 

Arthur didn't answer, but stroked his thumb across John's chin in apology. He wanted to do more, but hoped the sentiment was still there.  
“It would just be easier for you, that's all.”

“Easier and a living a lie.”

Arthur sighed and started work on the second row of stitches that slashed across John's face. He dropped his hand to rest against John's throat, to feel the pulse of blood in his veins.  
“A lie that wouldn't make you swing from the gallows.”

“Don't start that shit again Arthur. We both are on borrowed time as is.” John shot back.

“True enough there, though I do believe my head is worth a lot more than yours.” Arthur said smugly.

“We still talking about bounties?” John asked coyly, grinning wide despite his aching cheek 

Arthur snorted and tugged at a strand of John's hair. “You tell me!”

John risked pressing his lips against Arthur's dry wrist in a chaste kiss. He was awarded with a sharp sting as the tweezers slipped from Arthur's deft hands and poked his cheek.

“You keep doing that and I'm just gonna make it worse.” Arthur scolded lightly. He shifted closer to John's face. “Now, hush up while I get these last few.”

As tenderly as he could manage, Arthur parted John's split lip with his thumb. He couldn't help but smile at the sharp inhale that came from John.  
He felt the younger man's trimble beneath his touch and had to fight every urge and instinct in his body not to kiss him then and there.

Reluctantly, he released John's face and dabbed at the specks of blood with his bandana. 

The pink scars somehow made the man look younger instead of a scarred outlaw. More vulnerable and exposed.  
Arthur gave him a small smile and patted his unmarked cheek.  
“There. Not quite as gruesome now.”

John rolled his eyes and slapped back on his hat. “Come fishing with me Arthur. Please.”

Now it was Arthur who fought against the blush that rose to his cheeks. He knew what fishing meant, and it didn't involve poles and worms.  
He broke eye contact with John to dig in his satchel for a slightly crushed cigarette.  
“I can barely hobble John, much less ride a horse.”

“Ride with me!” John suggested lowly. “Just...be with me tonight.”

Arthur picked up his forgotten Repeater to keep his hands busy and to further avoid John's pleading eyes.  
He wanted nothing more than to jump on a horse with John at his back and disappear. He sighed wistfully.

“Yeah like I'm gonna ride side-saddle with you. Tell me, what color dress should I wear while I'm at it.”

“God damnit Arthur, stop acting like you don't want the same thing as I do!” John spat out.

“I said I can't.” Arthur said firmly, wiping his already shining gun slowly. “Maybe..maybe some other time, when there's less people about.”

John stood then, but not before jabbing a finger at Arthur. “When you're done depriving yourself, you come find me. But don't expect me to wait on you forever.”  
He stormed off to his horse without a second glance to Arthur, leaving the man sitting in the dust. 

 

The next day Arthur couldn't take the camp anymore.  
John had come back after dinner with a decent sized doe draped across his shoulders. He took a bowl of stew to his tent and that was the last Arthur seen of him. 

After a night of being haunted by brown eyes and the memory of more, Arthur was restless.  
Though his ankle was still swollen and bruised, he needed to get out.

“Nothing too extreme, just going to go get a drink.” He told Hosea as he limped to his horse. 

Hosea didn't look convinced. “That ankle of yours could use another day or two of rest Arthur.”

He climbed into his patiently waiting Mustang and hoped Hosea didn't see the grimace of pain that flashed across his face. “I'll prop it up on a stool.”

“Just don't overdo it!” Hosea lectured with a shake of his head. 

“Of course!” Arthur drawled, tipping his hat goodbye.

 

He'd barely broken the treeline and already Arthur felt more relaxed, the stress of the camp and certain members left behind.  
His hands tightened on the reins and he nudged Sara-Mae into a faster trot. 

“Fucking John.” he muttered to the wind.

The man drove him crazy, all smart ass remarks and devil may care attitude. He never gave a single thought or care on what his actions may bring.  
But God, Arthur couldn't help baiting him with his own lashing comments and quick wit.

Nothing got him going more than going back and forth with John until they both were ready to tear the other apart. He loved to see John's blood rise and eyes snap anyway he could. 

Well, other than sex with John that is.

Arthur fidgeted in his saddle at other, more private memories of John. 

It had been almost a month since the last time they were together, but he'd thought about it everyday since.

They were supposed to be out looking into a lead on an empty house John heard about. Some rickety homestead that was rumored to have gold buried on the land.  
When the lead turned out to be mostly a bust, barely $20 to split, Arthur took advantage of the rare opportunity to have John alone and in a bed.

As feisty as John was among others, he was a wild cat in bed. The things he did with his mouth would surely make even the most seasoned call girl blush.  
And he loved to do it too, nothing like the few times reluctant ladies in Arthur's past have done.  
His tongue could curse Arthur to hell, but it sure could bring him to heaven too.

Arthur shifted in his saddle again, his dick remembering John's wicked mouth too. 

He lit a cigarette and took a few calming drags, relieved that the few twinkling lights of town where coming into view.

All he wanted was a few swigs of whiskey, maybe a plate of whatever the saloon was cooking that night, and to forget his worries for a moment.

 

And for the first hour he did. 

Arthur did just what he planned.  
He ordered a plate of food, tonight’s fried deer tenderloin and rice and gravy, and secured himself a bottle.  
He was pleasantly full and starting to get more than a little drunk when the night started to turn, thanks to John of course. 

Half his bottle was gone and he was having a lovely conversation about sheep breeding with the gentleman sitting beside him when in walked John. 

Or some freshly washed, new suit of clothes creature that just had the misfortune to look like John. 

Arthur watched through squinted eyes as John sauntered up to the bar and ordered a beer. The hookers that hung the around the saloon smelled fresh meat and were already throwing winks and grins his way.

Arthur gripped his bottle until his knuckles turned white.

“That boy owe you money or something?” the sheep breeder joked nervously. “You look like you wanna skin him alive!”

“Something like that.” Arthur said darkly, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Sensing trouble, his conversation partner paid his tab and wished him a good night before leaving the bar quickly.  
With his seat empty, Arthur turned on his stool to get a better look at the spectacle. 

Those new clothes must have set him back a bit, Arthur thought idly. New black collared shirt, some shiny new vest that had creeping flowers over the chest and fit him like a glove.

He wore them well though, easy as he did the same sweat-stained clothes he wore back at camp.  
Arthur watched as a busty blonde touched John's scarred cheek, an exaggerated look of concern on her painted face.

As John started in on his wolf tale, Arthur knew it by gesture alone, Arthur watched as the blonde's dark-haired friend slyly helped herself to the pocket watch hanging on John's new vest. 

Now being a thief himself, Arthur wanted to laugh at such shotty work. But the bigger, more jealous rage and whiskey part of him just wanted to shoot her square between the eyes. And maybe John himself for good measure.

With a grunt, he heaved himself off the barstool and past John, missing the disappointed look that flashed in his dark eyes.  
With his quick reflexes he had the smaller woman's wrist locked in an iron grip before she could blink.  
“I don't think this here belongs to you, my dear.” 

He wasn't quite sure if he meant the watch or John himself, but he knew the woman needed her hands off.  
The petite woman stuttered and weakly let the pocket watch fall back against John's vest. “I was just checking the time!”

Arthur smiled without humor. “Sure. That's why you waited until he's good and distracted.”

The handsy blonde came to the defense of her sticky fingered friend, patting Arthur's bicep reassuringly. “Now now, ain't no need for a big scene! My friend here ain't done nothing wrong, ain't that right fella?”

Other hand still on John's thigh, she grinned up at him, red lipstick bright against her teeth. 

John laughed lightly and polished off his beer. “I guess not, but if your friend don't keep her hands to herself my friend here is gonna have hers as a trophy.”

The blonde laughed loudly and inched her hand up John's thigh. “Oh you're both terrible! How bout the two of you come back to our room and we’ll see what else we can grab?”

“Not a chance in hell.” Arthur said mildly, shaking off her hand. He tipped his hat at the lot of them before storming outside.

He didn't wait for John to follow him, didn't want to be around to see if he didn't follow at all.  
Instead Arthur jumped on Sara-Mae and sped off.

 

Not wanting to be at camp when John strolled back in grinning and freshly fucked, Arthur decided to pitch a tent for the night not too far away.  
He made a fire automatically, but once his tent was up and bedroll was out the evening of drinking and anger caught up with him. He secured Sara-Mae and his valuables before retiring to his makeshift bed.

He didn't get much sleep before he was awoken again. About two hours after he laid his head down he woke with a start.  
The campfire he'd made before bed had been built up again, making his tent glow and flicker with its shadows. 

Quietly as he could muster, Arthur unholstered the pistol at his hip and eased back the canvas flap of the tent. 

John sat by the fire, studying the flames as he poked the coals with a sticks.

“What you doing here Marston? Camp is further down the path.” He called out, taking pleasure in John's surprised jump.

John scowled and stood slowly, dusting off the the grit that stuck to his pants. “I know where I'm at. We need to talk.”

Arthur groaned and rubbed his tired eyes. “Now you're starting to sound like a woman.”

John tossed his head. “If only I was, things would be so much easier for you huh?”

Arthur slapped his pistol back in his holster to point an accusing finger at John. “Unlucky for you. I wouldn't punch a woman, normally. Besides, shouldn't you be out getting your dick wet?”

“Just like you wanted right?”

Arthur saw red, his tattered patience gone up in smoke.  
He stomped to John and grabbed him by his shirt collar. “You fuck those whores?”

John shoved Arthur back,but the man only tightened his hold. He met Arthur's fiery stare with his own. “Why's it matter to you if I did? You can barely bring yourself to touch me in public, much less stake a claim.”

With a strangled growl, Arthur yanked John closer, their chins almost brushing. “If I find out you fucked some $3 whore I'm killin’ you both Morston, and you can believe that.”

John watched the fire dance in Arthur's steely blue eyes and couldn't help but feel a small shiver of fear. He'd seen Arthur kill before, been threatened to receive his own bullet more times than he could count, but this was only the second time he thought Arthur might actually pull the trigger on him. 

He pawed at Arthur's hands again, hearing the fabric of his new shirt tear at the seams.  
“I didn't sleep with her, now let me go!”

Arthur squinted his eyes and gave him one last glare before tossing him backwards in disgust. John stumbled, but caught his footing before he fell into the fire.

“Why would it matter Arthur? Didn't you just tell me to go get a hot date?”

“I said a date, not a bought roll in the hay! A nice young thing to hold on your arm, someone that's just stupid enough to think you're a good man.” 

John tossed his hands in the air in frustration. “I don't want a woman Arthur! Even if you refuse to touch me again, I don't want to be with a woman!”  
He scrubbed his raw face wearily. “This is who I am.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur demanded.

John gave a bitter laugh. “I like men Arthur. Men only. You, you braying jackass.” 

Anger dying, Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion. “But what about Abigail, and others before her?”

John shrugged his shoulders and kicked at rocks on the ground. “I had sex with her one time. I...I turned her around so I wouldn't have to see her face.”  
He risked a glance at Arthur. “There was only one before her, some whore, I don't even know her name. I didn't even...you know, finish.”

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel relief rush through him warmly. He took a cautious step towards John, fingers hovering above the rip in his collar. “Guess I owe you a new one huh?” he said awkwardly.

John huffed in agreement, not meeting Arthur's eye. “Damn right, cost me $15.”

Arthur rubbed the fabric between his fingers. “It's nice enough I suppose. Why'd you get all gussied up like this anyway?”

John shifted, letting Arthur have more access to his shirt.  
“I don't know, maybe I thought I could trick myself into wanting a woman. Maybe I wanted to make you jealous.”

Arthur hooked his finger under John's vest and tugged him closer. “You most certainly did that.”

He kissed John slowly, savoring the feel and taste of his lips beneath his. He broke away to rest his forehead against John’s own.  
“I'm sorry for being such an ass John.”

John smiled, savoring the rare Arthur apology. “Sorry for what? Threatening to kill me or just general assholeness?”

“Both? Everything? I'll apologize for putting my foot in it in the future too if you let me.”

John snorted and kissed Arthur's smirking lips. “No advance apologies. Maybe you can make it up to me in other ways?”  
He kissed across Arthur's bearded cheek, caught his earlobe between sharp teeth.

Arthur inhaled sharply. John knew all his weak spots and played them well.  
“I'm not ashamed to be with you.” Arthur said suddenly, low and serious.  
John stopped the kisses he was peppering against Arthur's neck and pulled back to study the man's face. 

“You might have half a brain, but I'm not ashamed to be yours.”  
He sighed and ran his fingertips over John's scars as he talked. “It's everyone else. The world don't want us- outlaws, gunslingers, queers. I just wanna make it easier for you.”

John caught Arthur's fingers and squeezed tightly. “I know it makes sense to you, but you need to give it up. I ain't no woman who needs to be shielded from the world.”

Nodding, Arthur kissed John's dry knuckles. “I can't promise much, but maybe I can ease up...on somethings.”

“We'll figure it all out later. I think right now you were trying to... apologize?” John flirted.

Arthur grinned and circled his strong arms around John's waist. “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

John matched Arthur's grin and roped his arms around Arthur's neck. “And you're definitely a man of action.”

All at once Arthur found himself in a rush, too much time they didn't have was being wasted. He kissed John feverishly, clashing teeth and tongues in his wake.  
He broke away from John just long enough to pull the younger man into the privacy of his tent and onto his rumpled bedroll.

Propped on his elbows, John watched as Arthur made quick work of shoving his pants down and off. His dick, long and flushed as the rest of him, sprang out and slapped against his belly.  
Arthur gave it a leisurely tug,as if it was an afterthought.

“You just gonna lay there watchin’ or you gonna take them fancy britches off?”

“Just admirin’ the view.” John praised, moving to wrestle off his boots.  
He didn't bother with the rest of his clothes, instead he grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled and him down.

“Why don't you take 'em off for me?” He asked, lips pressed against Arthur's broad neck, hands roaming the plains of his back.

Arthur tsked. “So damn lazy.”  
He inched back in the cramped tent and slowly unbuttoned the sleek buttons on John's vest.  
He held it up to his face to study in the dimness of the tent. “This is pretty nice. Maybe I'll borrow it sometimes.”

John snorted and plucked the vest out of Arthur's hands to toss aside. “Sure that won't raise a few eyebrows, you struttin’ around in my clothes?”

With ease, Arthur ripped open the torn shirt John still worn,buttons flying off and out into the darkness.  
He smoothed his hand over John's chest, raked his fingers through the scattering of dark hair to tweak his nipple. “You’d love that though, wouldn't you?”

He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin right under John's ear, not pulling away until a large purple bruise was already forming.  
“Struttin’ around the camp like a banty rooster, my brands all over your neck.”

Beneath him, John arched and squirmed and clutched at the thin undershirt Arthur still wore. “You, stretching out my new vest, lookin’ entirely too pleased with yourself.” He laughed breathlessly in Arthur's ear.

He hooked his leg onto Arthur's and pulled the older man fully on top of him, earning himself a grunt and a muted curse.  
John fisted his hands tightly in dark blonde hair, arching his hard dick against Arthur's own.  
“Do you want me to beg for it, Morgan?”

Arthur growled against John's mouth. “Oh you'll be beggin’ before the night is over.”  
Blindly, he slapped at the dirt until he found his leather satchel. He rooted around in the small bag until he found what he was hunting-a small dented tin.  
John shivered with anticipation as Arthur scooped up a generous amount of the balm and slicked up his hand. The smell of the salve alone, herbal and woodsy, was enough to get him hard these days.

John wiggled out his underwear, making sure he rubbed and rutted against any part of Arthur he could reach.  
He yelped when Arthur finally pinned him down by the hip and grasped his dick tightly.  
“Easy now.” Arthur murmured, stroking John slowly, grasp firm. “You've missed this haven't you?”

John laughed but it turned into a moan as Arthur rubbed his thumb over his leaking tip. “God yes, haven't you?”

To answer, Arthur slipped a greased finger down between John's cheeks and pressed inward in one smooth motion. He stroked John in time with the man's wild thrust, working his finger upwards until John clinched and groaned out Arthur's name  
“I've missed that.” Arthur confirmed. “You singin’ my name like it's a hymn.”

John smashed a kiss on Arthur's sweat slick shoulder, nipping at the hard muscle. “I'll scream it until I'm hoarse if you'll hurry up and fuck me.”

Arthur chuckled lowly. “My oh my you gotta filthy mouth boy. Might need to plug it with something next time.”  
He slipped another finger into John's tight ring, working them in and out until John was panting and hard as iron in his hand.  
Digging his heels into the earth beneath them, John pushed himself down harder on Arthur's fingers. “God Arthur, please!”

“There's that magic word.” Arthur purred with approval.  
He slid his fingers out to pump at his own dick a few times, making sure it was fully covered in the salve.  
“Let me know if I'm hurting yah.” Arthur whispered against John's lips as he positioned himself.

John had to smile then. In the past, everytime the two have had sex no matter how rough and wild they got, Arthur always made sure he wasn't in any unwanted discomfort.  
He combed his fingers through Arthur's disheveled hair and gave him what he hoped to be a reassuring nod. “On with it Morgan.”

Arthur kissed him messily, hitting the corner of his mouth and down his whiskered chin.  
Slowly, painfully slowly, Arthur worked the tip of himself inside of John. It was his turn to moan as John wrapped his leg around his waist and begged for more.  
The tight heat surrounded him,and with John's encouragement and his own trembling excitement he pushed on until every inch of himself was fully enveloped.  
He waited, hardly breathing and legs shaking as John adjusted himself around Arthur.

John hissed and clutched at Arthur's forearm, willing his body to relax and accept Arthur's fullness. The pain was there, a low throb right in his core, but the desperate want for release was far greater.  
He opened eyes he didn't remember shutting and patted Arthur's now scratched arm. “Move Arthur.”

Arthur slapped John's free leg over his shoulder, his fingers digging into his slippery thigh as he worked at his lover.  
John moaned at the new angle, pulling Arthur tighter against him with the leg still wrapped around the man's waist. “Just like that Arthur.”

He glided in and out of John with practiced skill, making sure to brush the bundle of nerves that made the brunette tighten around him and react so beautifully. 

John slipped his hand between thir bodies and gripped his own dick, tugging it frantically until Arthur covered his fist with his hand to help get him in time. 

They worked together, bodies falling into the same rhythm of give and take.  
Arthur rolled his head back and panted at the worn ceiling of the tent. His thoughts were purely primal,wanting nothing but more John and more release.  
He smacked wetly against John, the slap of skin on skin and their labored breathing filling the quiet of the night.

He quickened his thrusts with a growl, the need for release like a high pitched hum in his ears. “Fuck, John!”

John arched his hips and tossed his head back onto the bedroll.  
“A-Arthur, I'm gonna-”

Arthur rolled his hips and kissed John's knobby knee, any place on the man he could reach. “By all means darlin’, show me what you got.”

He was painfully close himself, John's throaty moans and his tight little body pulling him closer and closer to the edge. He thrusted himself deeper into John,almost pulling out completely before ramming back home. 

With a strangled cry, John tensed and came in quick, hot spurts covering both their hands.  
Chest heaving, he watched as Arthur buried his face in John's calve and came with a grunt.  
To be so talkative during sex, he sure never makes much noise once he finished, John thought idly, still riding the glow of his orgasm.  
He grinned- he suddenly had a new goal in life and it was to make Arthur Morgan scream his name. 

With a wince, Arthur eased his spent dick out of John. He unwrapped John's leg off his shoulder and half-heartedly wiped his hands on his shirt  
before he flopped down on the ground.  
In a moment they would both get reasonably cleaned up, but for the life of him he was too exhausted and sated to care about being a mess.

“What are you grinnin’ at?”

“Oh not much. Can't a fella grin after sex?” John laughed. He sat up long enough to find Arthur's cigarettes and matches, fumbling with lighting it naked.  
Arthur watched, head cupped between his laced fingers as John struggled and cursed.

Wordlessly, he plucked the match from his lover and lit with flick and scrape of his thumbnail. He held it up to the cigarette John had clinched between his teeth.

“You're such a show off.” John huffed, inhaling deeply to light his cigarette. 

Arthur smiled ruefully and blew the match out. “Just one of the tricks of the trade, I'll show you how it's done later.”

“Story of my life.”John quipped.  
John passed the cigarette off to Arthur before slotting himself back beside the man. He floundered for a bit at the tight space before simply curling on his side with his head on Arthur's chest tucked beneath his chin.

“Don't go falling asleep on me just yet.” Arthur said softly. He twirled a strand of John's dark hair around his finger. This close he could smell a trace of his earlier bath clinging to his skin, sweet lavender soap under the sweat and whiskey. It suited him, Arthur decided. 

Grumbling, John claimed he wasn't but eyelids were already fluttering close.  
“Just restin’ my eyes.”

Arthur chuckled and unwound his finger from John's locks. “Yeah yeah.”

He knew they'd wake up itching and stained, muscles sore and backs aching. They'd wash up in the creek just behind them hidden in the trees, sarcastic comments and kisses thrown around equally.  
They'd ride into camp like nothing happened, back to just being two assholes ripping on each other and trying not to be too obvious.

But tonight, for this moment, they could be what they were- two bullheaded men in love. 

Arthur pinched out his cigarette and wrapped a strong arm around John. He let his eyes drift close, just for a minute. 

Tomorrow would come too quick and the clock was already ticking.


End file.
